SG1:1 I, Goa'uld
by A Rhea King
Summary: While trying to prevent a goa'uld prisoner from going through the gate, O'Neill and the prisoner accidentally go through the gate together. O'Neill soon discovers that she's like no goa'uld they've ever encountered.
1. Chapter 1

I, Goa'uld

A. Rhea King

Chapter 1

The Emergency Room at Denver General was chaos to the average onlooker. Normally it wasn't so hectic, but a late spring snowstorm and bus versus semi on I-25 had changed that. It had made a normal Monday morning rush hour into a race against time for many of the victims from the pile-up. Doctors and nurses rushed to stabilize the patients that were a constant stream.

A doctor looked up when the doors opened, watching two paramedics run in with a gurney. The gurney stopped in the spot next to him. He shook his head. The girl had a head wound that had matted her dirty blonde hair. One arm laid across her stomach at a sharp angle and her leg had bone poking through the skin where the paramedics had cut away the leg of her business suit. The doctor turned back to the patient he was working on.

"Patient's name?" the doctor asked the paramedic.

"Michelle Russell."

The doctor's head jerked up.

"Did she have a Lockheed-Martin badge on her?"

"Yeah. That's how we identified her. Why?"

From the wounds the girl had, the doctor knew she had a minimal chance of survival. And that was enough to break his heart. She was renowned for her controversial views and theories on the development of space travel and astronomy. She had contributed a great deal to both the science and medical communities and she was only twenty-six. The loss of such a great mind would be a sharp blow to humanity. The doctor grabbed a nurse passing by.

"She needs an x-ray and cat scan, immediately," he ordered the nurse, pointing at the girl.

The nurse motioned to an orderly and the two rushed the woman off.

Deluged with patients, the doctor quickly forgot about Michelle Russell. Someone grabbed his arm with a painful grip and he turned, expecting it to be a friend or relative of a patient.

The nurse that had taken Michelle gripped the doctor's arm in a vice hold. Her eyes bugged and she was pale.

"Doctor, we just finished the CAT scan of the patient you sent me off with."

"Which one?"

"Michelle Russell."

"How serious is it?"

"Her wounds aren't serious, but... There is this." She held out the developed CAT scan with a shaking hand.

The doctor walked to a light board and snapped the image into place. His eyes widened as his heart skipped a beat. At the base of Michelle's skull and neatly tucked around her spine, was the spine of a wormlike creature.

The Doctor turned to the nurse. "Quarantine her immediately. Call the CDC. Right now!"

The nurse ran off and he began shouting orders to direct patients to other rooms and out of the emergency room.

* * *

General Landry looked up at a knock on his door.

"Come in," he called.

An officer came in with a handful of folders. "General O'Neill has arrived, sir. And we just received word back from SG-1. They made contact with the Tok'ra. They are meeting them on P9X-5C9 and should be back here in twelve hours."

Landry saw O'Neill coming up the stairs in the meeting room. He was dressed in fatigues and carried an accordion file folder with a 'Top Secret' label affixed to it.

"And our prisoner? How is she?"

"She regained consciousness twenty minutes ago."

Landry met the officer's eyes. "Is she hostile?"

"No, sir. She's... No."

"She's what?"

O'Neill stopped in the door, leaning against the doorframe.

"She's crying, sir."

Landry was surprised by the answer. Even O'Neill looked a little surprised by it.

"Crying?"

"Yes, sir."

"Probably thinks it's going to die." Landry turned his attention to the folders that were sat on his desk. "That'll be all."

The officer hesitated. Landry didn't notice. O'Neill did.

"Something wrong?" he asked the officer.

Landry looked up.

"No, sir," the officer said. "Excuse me, sir."

O'Neill nodded once, watching him go. O'Neill sat down in a chair in front of Landry 's desk. Landry recognized the thoughtful expression on O'Neill's face – it was a rare expression but usually resulted in something surprisingly intelligent coming out of his mouth.

"What are you thinking, Jack?"

"A goa'uld crying... That's not normal." O'Neill looked at him, setting the file folder on his lap. "Nothing in this file is normal for a goa'uld, Hank. Are you certain that she is one?"

"She has one in her head. That's enough for me."

"Are you sure it's a goa'uld?"

"Doctor Lam tested its DNA and it came back positive. She is a goa'uld. SG-1 went to track down the Tok'ra to find out if she's one of theirs, but I expect the answer to be no."

O'Neill opened the folder, looking over the data. "This doesn't make sense. She was driving, not even Ba'al drove. Too below him, I think. Her host was a fifteen-year-old run away and prostitute. After being raped and nearly beat to death, the host spent a year on life support with no brain activity. The night they were going to disconnect her from life support, the host regained consciousness. At this point, if the goa'uld controlled Michelle, I would have expected her to walk out of the hospital and off to make our life miserable. Instead, she goes back and finishes high school and earns a full ride to MIT. She earns a masters in physics and a doctorates in astro-physics and microbiology. And to top all this off, her voice would resonate and her eyes would glow. That wouldn't be easily explained away, unless she convinced the host to cooperate. I doubt even a Tok'ra could convince a teenager to cooperate, especially one that ran away from home in the first place."

Landry was smiling by the time O'Neill finished.

"You know who you reminded me of just then?"

O'Neill shrugged. "A talk show host?"

"Doctor Jackson. He made the same exact arguments as Teal'c practically drug him through the gate. The last words out of his mouth before he crossed the event horizon were, 'If Sam, Teal'c or I can't stay, then get Jack back here. Have him question her before we hand her over to the Tok'ra. We may be looking at a new goa'uld tactic or even breed.' And then he left."

"So that's why the president ordered me recalled from Russia at _your_ request?"

"At Jackson's request, actually. Saying it was mine was more persuasive."

O'Neill opened the folder, pulling out a photograph. It was of three people: two adults in their late forties and a young woman in her twenties.

"Let's hope it's a new tactic and not a new breed; we'd never be able to detect them like if they can hide among us this easily."

"I agree. Shall we go meet her?"

O'Neill stood, setting the file folder on the desk, but tucking the picture in his shirt pocket.

"I'm going to go get a cup of coffee. I'll join you in the interrogation room."

Landry nodded once.

O'Neill walked out of the office into the conference room. He glanced down at the gate as he passed the windows. A small part of him longed to go on a mission through the gate just one more time. O'Neill looked away and his travel lust went back into hiding.

* * *

O'Neill sipped his coffee, watching the girl. Did he call this thing Michelle Russell? He was never sure what to call a host once a goa'uld took over, especially when the goa'uld, like this one, didn't offer up a name for itself. Landry appeared on his left, also watching her

"She's crying," O'Neill stated.

Landry looked at him. "So?"

"Never seen a goa'uld cry. It's different. Is it possible this coffee has gotten worse?" O'Neill looked into the steaming, dark brown liquid in his cup.

Landry smiled. "New staff. I like it, actually."

O'Neill looked up at him. "You _like_ it? This is awful." O'Neill handed him the cup. "I have to know how she learned to drive. What was it the Asguard told Carter? Oh yeah. They're too advanced to understand simpler technologies. I would think driving would be too simple for a goa'uld."

Landry started to comment but O'Neill was out the door before he could. He looked at the coffee, sniffed it and sat it down on a counter nearby.

O'Neill walked into the room and fell into the chair opposite Michelle Russell. He watched her silent tears fall, watched her fingers twine together, untwine and twine again. She was nervous. A goa'uld that was nervous? Not even the Tok'ra showed signs of nervousness. She avoided his eyes. She stopped twining her fingers and put her hands in her lap.

"WHAT?" she suddenly demanded, looking up at him.

O'Neill stared, repressing how surprised he was by her reaction, and that her voice didn't resonate.

"Hi," O'Neill said.

"What?" she quietly asked.

"I said, hi."

She looked away again, tugging on her shirt.

"Most people say hi back when someone says that."

She looked back at him with burning hatred. "Do they? Even when they're being held prisoner without knowing why?"

"Oh..." O'Neill leaned against the back of his chair. "I think you know why. You're just playing dumb."

"Lets pretended, for a moment, that I don't. That the last thing I remember was thinking, 'Oh shit!' as my car was hurtling out of control into the back of a Hummer. Let's pretend for a moment that I don't remember hearing and feeling every bone in my body breaking and being in agony. And let's pretend, for a moment, that I woke up chained to a bed and miraculously cured. Let's pretended, shall we?"

O'Neill smiled. "Okay. Who are you?"

"You're military, obviously," she motioned at his clothes, as best she could handcuffed and chained to the table. "You're going to tell me you don't know?"

"I thought we were pretending that we didn't know anything right now."

Her eyes narrowed. "Michelle Elizabeth Russell. Who you are?"

"General Jack O'Neill."

There was a flicker of recognition to his name, so quick that he almost missed it.

"And you know who I am, don't you?" O'Neill asked.

"No."

"Still pretending we don't know anything?"

"I _don't_ know anything."

"Then let's talk about that worm in your head."

"It's not a wor--" Michelle looked at the table, clearly realizing her mistake.

"Who are you?"

"I told you."

"No. You told me who the host is that you've enslaved, not who you are. And why doesn't your voice resonate? I've only seen Tok'ra do that and that's when the goa'uld isn't in control."

Michelle didn't answer.

"Michelle, or whoever you are, this will go much easier if you cooperate. Are you working for a system lord?"

"I wouldn't work for a fucking system lord!" she snarled.

O'Neill's brow furrowed a moment. Something else had been bugging him since she began talking and he just realized it. Her diction, her slang, was human. It wasn't elegant or grammatically correct, it had flaws, wrong word choices.

"You've put so much work into fitting into human society. Why? I thought goa'ulds were better than their hosts. Superior."

"This is bullshit," Michelle muttered.

O'Neill knew he wasn't meant to hear the comeback, but he couldn't let it go. What was it about this goa'uld that piqued his interest so much?

"What's bullshit?" O'Neill asked.

She didn't answer.

O'Neill leaned forward on the table, clasping his hands together. It brought him closer to her. For a moment he recalled all the other times it appeared a goa'uld was secure only to have it attack him. For a split second he asked himself why he felt so comfortable getting close to her. That only brought him back to wondering what it was about her that piqued his interest and realizing his original resolution of the thought was bogus. Everything about this one was bogus. Including any threat his past experiences told him she was to him.

"Who... Are... You?"

She didn't answer.

"Did you do finish high school that your host started and earn your degrees at MIT to blend in? Until you found your golden opportunity to try and take over the world?"

Michelle didn't answer.

"Upset that your servant caught you?" O'Neill taunted.

She didn't answer.

"Which system lord are you?"

She didn't answer him. She made a face though, one of disgust and disdain. Was it aimed at him or the system lords?

"I know you're just dying to gloat about how superior goa'uld are to humans. You'd be wrong, of course. After all, we did catch you."

Michelle's head lifted. O'Neill's smile dropped. The look on Michelle's face wasn't pride; it wasn't even that annoying smug look he'd seen too many times on goa'uld. It wasn't fear. No. This was different. This was... A revelation. What had she just had a revelation about?

"Ko..." Michelle hesitated.

"Ko?"

Her eyes flashed golden and her voice resonated when she replied, "Koshare."

O'Neill's eyes narrowed. He knew she was lying. He felt it in his gut.

O'Neill grimaced, shaking his head. "Now, you see, that was too easy. What are you hiding, Koshare, ya old...worm?"

Michelle looked away.

"Koshare, the Tok'ra are coming to take you back with them. And if you don't start talking to me, you _will_ talk to them. They don't have laws governing how to treat prisoners."

"The Tok'ra are inferior to us!" Michelle spat. It lacked the usual pride and forcefulness he'd heard so many times.

O'Neill sighed, trying to make it sound sympathetic. "I guess you'll have to remind yourself of that when they've put you through a few weeks of sleep deprivation and excruciating pain."

O'Neill stood and walked to the door. He motioned the guard outside to open it before looking back at her. She was crying silent tears again. So much emotion for a goa'uld. The light came on. That was what bothered him. She was emotional and it wasn't forced or fake emotions either. She was truly angry, truly scared.

The guard opened the door.

"Take her back to her cell," O'Neill ordered as he passed.

Landry was waiting in the hall.

"Maybe we shouldn't hand her over to the Tok'ra so soon, Hank," O'Neill suggested.

"Why's that?"

O'Neill looked back. Two guards came out of the room with Michelle; both prepared to shoot if she made even the slightest wrong move. They passed the two and she didn't even glance at O'Neill.

"Because if that girl is a goa'uld, she's the most submissive, scared goa'uld I've ever seen. She wouldn't hurt a fly."

"They've tricked you before."

"I know..."

"The president wants her off world as quickly as possible. We have larger problems than a goa'uld to worry about right now."

"The priors?"

Landry nodded. O'Neill looked down the hall. She was gone with the guards, but his mind was still on the interrogation.

"I'm going to stay until we send her off to the Tok'ra."

"I received word from SG-1. That will be tomorrow morning."

"I'll have enough time to close on my house and still go fishing," O'Neill joked.

Landry laughed, walking away. O'Neill let his smile fade. He only wished he had time to understand Michelle better.

* * *

Michelle solemnly watched the soldier take off her cuffs and chains. The guard gathered them up and backed out between two soldiers armed with machine rifles. The cell door closed with a click. The armed guards took position on either side of the door, watching her, the third left. Michelle turned, looking around the cell. She walked over to the bunk, staring at it for a few minutes. She sat down and pulled off her shoes, hugging them to her chest as she laid down with her back to the guards. Michelle reached into her left shoe and pulled the insole up. She pulled out a device the size of her palm with a smooth depression in the center and seven LEDs along the rounded edge. Michelle slid it into her bra. She hugged her shoes tight, closing her eyes. Silent tears erupted and she pushed her face into her pillow to muffle her bawling. 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

A truck bounced through wet, rundown streets of Moscow. The driver waved pedestrians out of his way, occasionally leaning out the window to yell at them to hurry. He turned into an alley and drove through an open door. The truck stopped and the driver climbed out. He was dressed in Russian military fatigues and pulled his cap on before he walked away. He glanced at two men who ran to shut the door. He jogged up a set of stairs to an office above. Opening the door, he entered a different world from the rainy one outside. People worked at computers and the air hummed with conversation, some of the voices the resonating voices of goa'uld.

The man made his way to a desk at the back. Two men and a woman stood around another man with earphones on. The woman was taller than the men with red hair and green eyes. She was dressed in Russian fatigues too. The listener transcribed what he was hearing on a computer.

"Have we heard from our source?" the newcomer asked.

"Yes," the Russian woman answered. "They tell us that she has been taken to Cheyenne Mountain. The President ordered her taken off world and the Tok'ra will be there in an hour to take custody of her."

"Is she hurt?"

"Nothing beyond the accident. Her parents are worried. They keep calling the military contact, asking what's happening to their daughter."

The man shook his head. "What are your orders, ma'am?"

"We wait and find out where she's being taken, and then retriever her off world. I won't let her fall into the hands of the Tok'ra."

"She is strong, Natasha, and cunning. She has a key to a safe world; she may be able to escape."

"And then she may not be able to. The last time she was interrogated, Ra had her for three days and nearly broke her. I won't let my sister suffer like that again."

The man nodded, looking down at the screen.

* * *

O'Neill followed behind Rachel and the guards. She was silent again, staring at the floor. Her eyes were puffy and red from crying all night. O'Neill just couldn't shake the feeling he should have spent more time prying into her life, trying to dig out why she was so different. 

They turned into the gate room where more guards were waiting. O'Neill stopped, sliding his hands in his pockets. This was as far as he was going. He sighed. He had considered requesting to escort her off world, but he had more Earthly concerns than to worry about a stray goa'uld who gotten itself caught. He'd sold his house in Colorado Springs and after closing, he had a week off to get settled into his new house – something that appealed more to him than traveling light years from Earth.

The gate began to dial. He heard Michelle say something to a guard. He glanced at her, watching her itch her chest over her right breast. He started to look away, when something glinted in her hand. He glanced back, seeing her cuffs falling away.

"WATCH OUT!" O'Neill yelled.

Michelle jerked her arms free from the guards and punched one in the throat and the other in the face. She charged into a marine nearby, pulling his service pistol away. O'Neill ran to stop her as she spun around. He froze with the cold metal of the barrel held against his forehead. Michelle's finger rested lightly on the trigger, a small piece of metal that could easily lead to his death. The room froze, weapons aimed at Michelle.

"Stop," Michelle quietly ordered. Her voice didn't resonate and her eyes weren't glowing. She sounded like any other human.

Why didn't she sound like a goa'uld? Why did he even care right now?

"Michelle, if you're in control, stop this," O'Neill said.

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Order everyone to put down their weapons because if one of them shoots me, my finger jerks, I put a bullet in your head, we both die."

O'Neill didn't order anyone to do anything. He knew she was right, but it was Landry's decision to order weapons down.

"Put down your weapons," Landry ordered over the intercom.

Around them marines and Stargate personnel obeyed. Michelle reached into her bra and pulled out a device. She pressed it and the gate rumbled to life. O'Neill glanced at the gate room. The technicians were scrambling to stop it. He looked at the gate. It was spinning faster than he'd ever seen it, chevrons locking into place as it whipped around. Seven chevrons locked and the gate burst to life. He heard something hit the floor and looked down. Michelle stomped her foot on the device, shattering it into bits. She grabbed O'Neill's arm, moved behind him, and backed up the ramp with him held in front of her.

"They'll come after us, Koshare," O'Neill threatened.

Michelle didn't answer.

They reached the edge of the platform and she suddenly shoved O'Neill forward. He spun, grabbing her arm as she started through the gate. She swung her arm out, hitting him across the cheek with the pistol. O'Neill stumbled back, seeing her turn to lunge into the gate. He lunged, wrapping his arms around her as he flew past her, yanking her back against his body. She dropped the gun when she tried to push away from O'Neill.

'Ah crap!' went through his mind as his momentum threw them into the gate.

As soon as their feet cleared the event horizon, the gate shut.

"DIAL THAT ADDRESS!" Landry screamed at the gate technician.

"I can't, General," the technician replied.

"WHY NOT?"

"She didn't use the computer to dial the gate, sir. It was never recorded. I don't know where they went."

Landry looked back at the gate, staring at it in disbelief.

"Recall SG-1. Apprise them of the situation."

The technician started the dialing sequence of the planet they were on.

* * *

O'Neill and Michelle hit the gate platform and rolled down three steps in a tangle of legs and arms. They hit the ground in a brawl and O'Neill quickly realized he was no match for her. It was more than a matter of strength, she was far more skilled than he was in hand to hand combat and used moves he had never even seen before. She ended the fight with a powerful hit to O'Neill's temple that rendered him unconscious. 

Michelle pulled away, staring at O'Neill. A warm, fragrant breeze blew across her cheek, playing with O'Neill's graying hair. She looked up. A red hued dusk was settling over the land, slowly enveloping them in darkness. In the towering pines around them, birds sang incessantly. Michelle walked to the DHD, laying her hand on the edge. It was covered with dirt, pine needles, pinecones, and bird droppings. She brushed her hand across a key, clearing it and gasped. She turned away, looking around her, shaking her head -- the action was an attempt to wrap her mind around the situation, rather than deny it. She looked down at a stick and reached a trembling hand out for it. She turned, staring at O'Neill. Michelle fell to her knees by the DHD and began digging beside it. Tears started falling, and the harder they fell, the harder she dug.

* * *

Landry walked into the control room, watching Carter and a gate technician. The two were hunched over keyboards, typing away and talking in code to his ears. 

"Any luck?" Landry asked.

"Maybe. We've found something that may be an address in the dump file," the gate technician said.

Landry nodded, pretending he knew what a dump file was and why it was important.

"It's fragmented, though," Carter told him, "and we're not sure if it really is a gate address."

Mitchell and Daniel came in, standing on either side of Landry.

"Any luck?" Mitchell asked.

"The dump file has fragments," Landry answered.

Carter and the tech both looked up at him.

"Right?" Landry asked.

Carter smiled, turning back to her work. "Sure, sir."

"And that's good?" Mitchell asked.

"Yes, sir," the gate technician told him.

The three men were silent, watching the screens display lines and lines of code that was completely meaningless to them.

"We have a gate address," the tech said.

"Start dialing it," Carter ordered.

The tech moved to the dialing computer and began inputting the symbols. The gate came to life, rotating around as it locked one chevron in at a time.

"You know, sir," Daniel started. "Mitchell, Teal'c, and I watched the video tape of the interrogation and the surveillance footage in the gate room." Daniel looked at Landry. "You said Jack was kidnapped?"

"He was."

Mitchell raised an eyebrow. "Did it look like that from up here? Because those tapes showed something a lot different, sir."

Landry frowned. He knew this was going to happen when the three reviewed the videotape.

"No. It looked like... Like Jack tried to grab her and fell in."

Mitchell risked a faint smile. Daniel wasn't as amused.

"Sir, I don't think she's a goa'uld."

"She had a goa'uld in her head, her eyes lit up and she had that voice. That really, really annoying voice."

"Yes, but she didn't have it all the time. Michelle seemed to be in control."

Landry looked at him. "If the human was in control, why would she try to run? Why would she have used a goa'uld device to try and use it? And why not just tell us she had control in the first place?"

Daniel tried to answer, but no answers were actually coming to mind. Landry had very good points.

"Exactly," Landry looked back at the gate. "She's a goa'uld. We just don't know what kind."

"She's not Tok'ra. Jacob said they'd never seen her," Mitchell said.

"And haven't you ever denied knowing someone undercover before?" Landry came back.

"Chevron seven locked," the gate tech told them.

The gate burst open and filled with sparkling blue light. From the gate came a squeal. It wasn't so high pitched it hurt their ears, but it was like someone scratching nails across a chalkboard.

"What is that?" Landry asked.

Light and sound suddenly burst from the gate. In the sound were a few words in a familiar language, and then the gate closed.

The room was silent.

"That was different," Daniel said. "And in Russian."

Landry, Mitchell and Carter looked at him.

"In Russian?"

"Yes. That was Russian. It said..." Daniel looked at him, his cheeks blushing slightly. "The number you've dialed has been disconnected. Please hang up and try the number again."

"We reached a wrong number in Russia?" Mitchell asked.

Carter turned to the computer, looking over the data of the dial. "According to this, it was a gate. But there's no data on how far away it was."

"Dial it again."

The gate technician entered the chevrons again. But when he got to the seventh chevron, it wouldn't lock.

"Why?" Landry asked.

Carter leaned in, looking over the technicians shoulder. She sat back slowly.

"The address we dialed," Carter said, turning to him, "is refusing to connect to ours."

"Refusing? How can a gate refuse to connect to ours?"

Carter shrugged. She'd never come across a gate that refused a connection. "It's sending a message back to our dialing computer. It says connection is refused until correct validation is transmitted."

"And what's the correct validation?" Mitchell asked.

"I have no idea."

"So we can't go after Jack?" Daniel asked.

Carter looked back at him. "No."

"I'm contacting the Russians," Landry said, turning to leave.

"The Russians?" Daniel asked.

"You said the message was in Russian. They may know something."

Daniel looked at Carter. He wasn't sure that the Russians would know anything about this, nor would any human on Earth. His gut was telling him that Michelle wasn't anything like any goa'uld they'd ever met, and he wasn't sure if that meant she was good or bad.

* * *

O'Neill opened his eyes, staring at the rock overhead lit by a dim florescent green light. He turned his head, finding the source of the green glow. Glo Sticks were laid around the cave he was in. Crates sat along one wall of the cave; Michelle knelt over a pile of small sticks, pine needles and pinecones. She was using an electric lighter, trying to light the tinder, and muttering curses under her breath. O'Neill moved, trying to adjust his body onto new pressure points. 

"Stupid fire! How the hell do you start a fire?" Michelle bellowed. She swiped her hand through the tinder, scattering it and tossed the lighter on the ground. "I hate you, do you know that?" Michelle glared at him. "If it hadn't been for you trying to stop me, I would be back on Earth, enjoying a cup of chai at Starbucks, trying to figure out if Clark and Lana were going to stay an item or break up. Again. But noooooo. You have to be the damn war hero and try to stop me!" Michelle stood up, storming up to him. "I let you go for Pete's sake! I mean... It has to take a complete _moron_ not to see I was letting you _go_!" She crouched, wagging her finger in his face. "And now my people won't come for about a week because you came through with me. They won't risk Carter getting a genius moment and detecting our gate dialing. And it's all your _fault_!"

O'Neill was stunned. Knowing who Carter was, was only mildly surprised him. Her emotional outburst was a jaw dropper. He had never seen a goa'uld go off like she was.

The only thing that came to mind was a plaintive, hardly worth speaking remark of, "You tried to escape."

She gaped. "And _you_ wouldn't have done the same?"

O'Neill grimaced. She had a point.

"Exactly." She walked back to where she was trying to build the fire and started piling the tinder again. "And for your information, I love Earth. I love everything about Earth. From apple pie to those little bread sticks dipped in chocolate in Japan to the surf in Australia. I love it." She started crying, gasping on every other syllable. "I love everything about it. My goals in life are to live peacefully, get married and have a couple kids -- again. Is that so damn impossible to believe? So difficult to understand?" She looked back at the tinder, striking the electric lighter. It didn't light. "And how the _fuck_ do you start a damn camp fire?" She put her face in her hands, bawling.

O'Neill worked himself up into sitting position, leaning back against the cave wall. He watched her for several minutes, not even sure what the right reaction was. His heart went out to her, but his mind was so accustomed to goa'uld betraying him, that it was quick to squelch the feeling.

"Is everything you're using dry?" O'Neill asked.

She dropped her hands, sniffling. "I don't know."

"It will never light if it isn't dry."

"I pulled this off the trees outside."

"Get some off the ground."

"Okay." She picked up a Glo Stick, and walked into the brush covering the opening.

O'Neill stared at the entrance, shocked that she just left him alone. O'Neill turned his hands behind him, feeling the rope binding his wrists together. He started working his hands back and forth, trying to pull them free. The left side gave a little, just as she came crashing back into the cave. He stopped moving, watching her. She didn't have the Glo Stick anymore, but did have an armful of pine needles, pinecones and twigs. She stared wide-eyed at the entrance.

"What's wrong?" O'Neill asked.

"Something's out there." Michelle backed away. "It growled."

"I didn't think your kind was afraid of anything," O'Neill goaded. "Too perfect to think something could kill you."

She knelt back down, where she was trying to start the fire. "You know, not every goa'uld has it out for humanity."

"I don't believe that."

"What about the Tok'ra?"

"I tolerate them. How do you know so much about me, SGC, the Tok'ra?"

"I only know a little." With the tinder pile remade, she leaned over and struck the electric lighter. A small flame licked up from the pile.

"Add a little at a time. Don't put on anything bigger than the flames," O'Neill instructed.

Slowly she began building the fire as instructed.

"Tolerate, huh? How does that work?"

She was calmer than she had been. Perhaps the fire calmed her, but that was a human reaction. Perhaps she'd vented enough frustration she was thinking clearly. But wasn't that also a human, not goa'uld, reaction.

"You know, my arm is falling asleep. Could you loosen these ropes?" O'Neill asked.

"You think I was born yesterday?"

"That would be no?"

"Yes."

O'Neill sighed, moving to adjust his position. She hugged her knees, staring at the fire.

"We need some Green Day."

"What is Green Day?"

She laughed, laying her cheek on her knees as she watched him. "I'm older than you and even _I_ know who Green Day is?"

"Part of Green Peace?"

She started laughing so hard she started crying and laid back. O'Neill was compelled to smile. He was surprised at how alive she was, how even her laughter set her apart from Tok'ra and system lords.

"No." She sat up cross-legged, smiling at the fire. "Green Day is a band, General. You don't have teenagers, do you?"

"You should know that."

Her humor vanished. She stood, walking over to the crates and began rummaging through them. She pulled out two wool blankets and dropped one on the floor. She walked over to O'Neill, spreading the blanket over him and tucking it in around him. She stopped moving suddenly, staring at the ground. She looked up into his eyes.

"I don't know that much about you. I don't know if you have kids or not."

O'Neill didn't answer. Her eyes looked like they were brown stained glass with a light sat behind them -- they glowed warmly, pulsing with the heartbeat that controlled Michelle. For something so sinister, it was also very beautiful -- and something else he'd never noticed about any goa'uld he'd ever met.

"I can sense you had a goa'uld in you once."

"It was Tok'ra." O'Neill's defense suddenly flew up. Somehow she was throwing him off balance again and he had to stop this. "The worm almost got me killed, which is why I'm not too fond of Tok'ra goa'ulds either. I'm sure your kind would have done the same to me, given the opportunity."

She looked away. She got up and went back to the fire, curling up in the blanket. O'Neill realized he'd hurt her feelings much deeper than her face had let on. He laid his head back against the cave wall, wishing he weren't alone with his mixed up emotions, trying to figure out this very strange goa'uld holding him prisoner.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Natasha turned when a man ran into the room and stopped at the interpreter's desk. He pointed at Natasha and the man ran up to her.

"Natasha, Thomas just called. He has word about Michelle. He's on line three."

Natasha walked to a phone and picked up line three. "Thomas?"

"Hey girl!" Thomas said. He had a thick Bronx accent.

"Yes."

"I just caught the American's dialing one of our safe world addresses. Don't worry. I cut them off before they could even sneak a peak. Like that planet has a lot to sneak a peak at."

"Did you code the DHD to prevent them from dialing it again?"

"Yeah. It's locked tighter than a preacher's wife."

Natasha smiled at the American sense of humor, vulgar as it was.

"Dropped them a line too, just for the fun of it."

"Thomas!" she scolded.

"Don't get excited! I just left them a wrong number message. In Russian. That'll keep 'em guessing for a while. Oh, and I got some bad news. Been monitoring the lines in and out. That General Landry guy made a call the prez before they dialed. Seems that General O'Neill guy went all heroic and tried to stop our girl from going through the gate. Got himself sucked in right after her."

Natasha rubbed her forehead, her eyes starting to glow. "She shouldn't have gated from there."

"Yeah, cuz she should have tried to escape from them Tok'ra instead, Nat," Thomas sarcastically came back. "_That_ would have worked. You know she had a better chance escaping the Taur'i."

"I know. All right. Send a message to the Nox. Ask Lya to go to the Taur'i in three days and tell them we'll have O'Neill home by days end. We can't dial out for a few days or risk detection."

"I'm on it, Nat. Ciao!" The phone went to dial tone.

Natasha hung up, looking around her. It was true that they had more important concerns, and with Michelle on a safe world, she wasn't their greatest, but she was her twin sister and she had worried about her for nearly five hundred years.

* * *

Something cawed loudly right outside the cave, dragging O'Neill from sleep. By the time he was coherent, the bird that was making the sound was gone. He tried to stretch, realizing how sore and stiff he was from sleeping in an awkward position. He guessed his age didn't help a whole lot with the agony he was in. O'Neill's eyes drifted to the cave entrance where dappled sunlight danced along the walls and dirt. The fire popped and his eyes slid toward it. He expected to find Michelle there, but her blanket was empty. He sat up suddenly, realizing she'd left him alone in the cave. O'Neill leaned forward, struggling with the rope binding his wrists.

The knots began to give and loosen. The fibers tore and peeled his skin, but he focused on his freedom and ignored the pain. His left hand suddenly pulled free. He swung his arms around, pulling the rope from his right wrist. With quick fingers he worked loose the knots of the rope tying his ankles together. Free, he hurried to the containers and rummaged through them. His hand stopped on the sheath of a military issue combat knife at the bottom of one. His head drifted up slowly. He heard footsteps approaching the cave and O'Neill pulled the knife from the sheath. He moved to the side of the entrance, waiting for Michelle to come in.

The brush rustled and she muttered a few soft curses. She came into the cave carrying three fish and a makeshift fishing pole.

"Wake up! Breakfast," she looked up, her words fading off, "is served."

O'Neill grabbed her from behind, leveling the edge of the blade on her throat. It was so sharp that it cut a fine line on her skin. A bead of blood ran down the blade onto her neck. She let out a soft cry of surprise, dropping the fish and pole.

O'Neill drew a breath to speak and was instantly distracted. She smelled of faded perfume mixed with the soft scent of pine. The surface of her skin was cool, but it was quickly warming under his hands. She felt so human. His distraction was disbanded when he remembered that under the skin was a monster. He couldn't trust her any more than the others.

"You're taking me to the gate and we're going back to the SGC."

"General, we ca—"

"No excuses."

She let him turn her toward the entrance and they pushed through the brush into the sunlight. O'Neill glanced around them at the tall pines that surrounded the cave. He'd half expected the place to be bare and stony, but the ground was covered with short grass and moss. Each step released the smell of fresh cut grass. O'Neil unwrapped his arm from around her waist, holding her arm instead.

"About the DHD, Gen—"

"I don't want to hear any excuses, Michelle. Just walk."

She heaved a sigh, continuing to walk. She shook her head a little.

"What?"

Suddenly O'Neill was on his back, with Michelle's knee pressed into his chest and the knife tip on his throat. Her eyes glowed brightly and her voice resonated when she spoke.

"I didn't ask you to be here," she told him, "I tried to let you go. You never told me why you didn't just let me go."

"You're a threat."

She backed away. O'Neill slowly got to his feet, keeping his eye on her.

"A threat? Not so much." The resonance in her voice faded with the glowing in her eyes. "Not that it matters. We can't get off this planet until someone comes who can fix the DHD, or something. We're stranded here." She turned, walking away. She paused only to stab the knife into a tree, glancing back at him. "It opened once while I was going to the lake. I got to it by the time it closed and nothing was sent through. I don't know what it means." She continued walking.

O'Neill looked at the knife. She left it as a test: if he grabbed it and attacked her, he didn't trust her, if he walked past it, he did. O'Neill followed her, passing the knife without a glance. After all, what proof did he really have she was a threat to him? Or Earth. Had they made a mistake in assessing who she was? O'Neill sighed. It was possible.

The walk was much shorter than it felt and the clearing the gate sat in came suddenly. The trees opened on a field of wildflowers that grew waist high. O'Neill jogged down the gentle slope to the DHD. Michelle followed after him, casually picking flowers as she passed them.

O'Neill looked over the DHD, his gaze stopping on a spot that had been cleared of dirt. There was no symbol on it. He touched it and a light appeared under the key he touched. A lock on the gate lit up in response. O'Neill rubbed his fingers over the smooth metal of the key. He looked up when Michelle leaned against the DHD next to him.

"This key is blank."

"I noticed and I don't know much about these things — actually I've never even used one — but I'm guessing that they aren't supposed to be blank." She looked up at him. "Are they?"

O'Neill ignored her question. He pulled off his over shirt and cleaned off the rest of the keys. They were all smooth, blank metal plates. O'Neill looked up at the gate. He squinted. He walked to the stairs leading up to the platform, staring at the gate. Like the DHD, it was smooth with no design on it.

"I'd hoped I could open it to somewhere where they might know you, and get you back to Earth," Michelle said.

O'Neill turned, staring at her. She sat on the edge of the DHD, arranging the bouquet of flowers in her hand. He didn't believe her. This was an elaborate plan to get to him. It had to be. No goa'uld would ever get themselves into a situation like this.

"Who are you?" O'Neill said as he started toward her.

She looked at him. "Michelle."

"No. Who are you really? Why did you bring me here?"

"I didn't _bring_ you here. You grabbed me and we fell into the gate. There was no _bringing_ involved."

O'Neill rushed up to her, grabbing her arms. He pulled her off the DHD to shove her against it. She let out a soft cry, wincing.

"Let me go!" she yelled.

"WHO ARE YOU?"

"I told you!"

"Tell me again. You don't sound like a goa'uld, or act like one. The only thing that makes me think you are is the glowing eyes, but that's not even constant. Who the hell are you?"

"Michelle Russell. How many ti—"

"That's the name of your host."

"That's _my_ name."

"No! You are not her! You are not human. You're a parasite, a worm. You take over people's lives and force them to do what you want. You make them a prisoner in their own bodies for hundreds of years."

"I don't do that."

O'Neill slapped her, knocking her off her feet. She turned her head, glaring at him with her eyes glowing gold.

"Answer me," O'Neill ordered.

Michelle slowly got up, keeping her distance. She was shaking; her hands were clenched in fists.

"I am Michelle, this version of Michelle. The Michelle that was in this body died ten years ago when the men beat her up. I don't take over people's lives. I never recall ever doing that. Every body I've ever had was like this one. Empty. A shell"

Michelle turned to leave. O'Neill grabbed her arm. Her answer wasn't good enough. She spun, punching him in the jaw. He fell back, his fingernails raking her arm as she pulled away. Michelle bolted, disappearing into the woods.

O'Neill laid where he'd fallen for a long time, watching clouds drift over as the pain eased away. And he pondered what she'd said. Did that mean her kind used corpses?

* * *

"Jack," a voice whispered.

O'Neill slowly woke up. He only saw the fire in front of him, and judging from how dark the cave was, it was night still. He closed his eyes, wondering where Michelle was. When he'd returned to the cave, he cooked the fish and sat outside whittle a stick all afternoon, but she hadn't shown up. When it became too dark to see he went back in and started a fire. He sat for three hours, according to his watch, waiting for her to come back. But there had still been no sign of her. He finally curled up in his blanket and went to sleep.

"Jack," the voice said again. "Help."

O'Neill opened his eyes again, this time sitting up. He was alone in the cave.

"Jack," the voice called.

It was coming from outside. O'Neill got up and started through the brush. His foot brushed something and he stopped. He knelt down, feeling the object. It was soft, fleshy.

"Michelle."

"Help," she whispered.

O'Neill had to feel his way along her body to figure out how she was lying, discovering she was lying on her side. He grabbed her arm and helped her onto her feet. She leaned against him, clutching his shirt to keep herself steady.

"What's wrong?"

"I was attacked."

"By what?"

"I don't know what it was. It was big, furry, lots of teeth and claws."

O'Neill slid his arm around her, feeling warm liquid smear across his arm. She limped beside him as he led her into the cave. In the light of the fire he discovered she had severe injuries, most of them to the bone. They gashed across her body, leaving the flesh hanging in strips like the cloth from her clothes. He pulled his hands back, staring at the red blood on his hands. Instantly his entire perception of her was changed. She was bleeding just like he was, and she may die – just like he could. Suddenly she wasn't a goa'uld, she was just another living being trying to survive.

"Lay down here," O'Neill said, motioning to a spot by the fire.

He eased her down, helping her lay back.

"Are there medical supplies in those crates?" he asked.

"Yes."

O'Neill rummaged through the crates, pulling out two boxes with red crosses on them. He went back to her and began cleaning and dressing the wounds. One eye was almost swollen shut, but she stared at the fire with the glassy look of shock.

"Michelle?"

She didn't answer.

"Michelle, stay with me."

She turned her head, looking up at the cave ceiling.

"What happened?" O'Neill asked.

"I was lunch."

"When did it attack you?"

"I left you at the DHD. I was coming back here, but I..." She closed her eyes, letting out a breath.

"Michelle, wake up. Come on. Stay with me."

"I was mad. I went for a walk."

"And it attacked you?"

"By the lake."

"Don't you know better than to wander around a strange world without your buddy?"

She smiled, briefly.

"Ah!" She tried to pull away from a wound he was cleaning with iodine.

"You have to hold still. Some of these are starting to clot."

Michelle closed her eyes. "It hurts," she whimpered.

O'Neill stopped, struck by the statement. He suddenly wondered if all goa'uld felt pain.

"Jack?" she whispered.

"Hm?" He continued bandaging the cuts.

She didn't reply. He looked up. She had lost consciousness. O'Neill continued bandaging her wounds.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

O'Neill watched the birds sitting in the brush outside the entrance. They sang happily, their lives untouched by the injured goa'uld. O'Neill looked at the crackers in his hand. He broke off a piece and put it in his mouth. While searching for more bandages, he'd come across a box full of field rations and bottled water, enough for one person for a month. He looked at Michelle when she whimpered. She had slept restlessly all night, waking him with muttering. He got up and retrieved a bottle of water.

"Is that water?" Michelle asked.

He turned. She watched the bottle in his hands.

"Yes." He sat down next to her, as he twisted off the lid. O'Neill lifted her head and helped her drink some. She pulled away, laying her head back on the blanket under it. He capped the bottle, watching her.

"These wounds don't look so deep. Why aren't you healing them?" he asked.

"I can't."

"Why?"

Her eyes drooped. "I can't concentrate on keeping the body alive and healing it. I was only able to heal it the first time because it was on life support."

O'Neill sat the bottle in his lap. "What did you mean Michelle died ten years ago?"

"That's a theological answer."

O'Neill smiled. "We've got time."

She stared at him, as if his response was a surprise. "I don't."

"Tell me the answer," O'Neill urged.

"Michelle was brain dead. The person that was in here died ten years ago, probably when she was beat up."

O'Neill shifted, looking away. "And you consider that dead?"

"There isn't anything of them left, Jack. It's like... Like entering a house where there's been a party. There's bits and pieces of the party everywhere, you know it was there, but the party is long gone."

"And what bits and pieces of Michelle exist?"

"Occasionally a feeling that's not mine, a memory. But there wasn't much when I took over."

"And your previous host?"

Michelle smiled. "Did you know there are people in the world that haven't had cheese?"

The remark threw O'Neill off. "Cheese?"

"She was from a tribe in the Amazon and she had fallen from a tree. The tribe wasn't real keen on her revival and the fact I didn't know their language right away. They chased me out of the village and on my way to Rio de Janeiro, I was hit by a truck. Then I was put in this body, Michelle."

"And the woman had never had cheese?"

"Never. I craved it the whole time I was in her body. That happens a lot."

"Cravings?"

"Yes." Michelle closed her eyes. "I'm tired."

O'Neill brushed her bangs back. "You have a fever."

She didn't reply. He hugged his knees, staring at the cave wall. She was right that she didn't have much time. Bleeding as heavily as she was, her time was quickly running out. Which meant he had little time to understand her race of goa'uld or Michelle.

* * *

Landry walked into the conference room. Carter had a laptop set up and was pouring over data. Daniel had books scattered across the table and was copying something from one onto a notepad.

"The Russians don't know anything about the gate and have never seen the address," Landry told them, sitting down in a chair.

"I didn't think they would," Daniel said.

"You don—"

"The signal was interrupted by another gate dialing to the same address at the same time we were," Carter said.

Landry turned his attention to her. "What does that mean?"

"Someone intentionally dialed to that gate to cut us off, and then probably transmitted a code to lock the DHD."

"Dialed from where?"

"Here. When General O'Neill and I were gated to the gate in Antarctica, we were found because of seismic activity. When I reviewed the data later, I also found there was a slight feedback when both gates opened at the same time. There wasn't any seismic activity this time, but I did find the same feedback signature. Someone here on Earth dialed out to disconnect us. And the signal to the DHD wasn't automatic. It was sent digitally from twelve different routers via an IP phone."

"Can you trace it to the source?"

"No. Whoever it was covered their tracks very well."

"I don't think Michelle is a bad guy," Daniel said, looking up from his writing. "I've been researching Koshare, the name she gave in the interrogation. I'd heard it before, but presumed it was in Egyptian mythology because the system lords are the basis of Egyptian mythology. But," Daniel grabbed a book, "Koshare is Hopi."

"Hopi? North American Hopi?"

Daniel retrieved a book and opened it to a bookmarked page as he turned it to show Landry. The picture depicted a Hopi village with several Hopi in a religious ceremony. Daniel pointed excitedly at figures separated from the ritual. The figures were dressed in black and white striped costumes, with hats that had two long ears that ended with tassels. They were climbing a ladder in the most contorted ways Landry had ever seen. Landry looked up at Daniel.

"Koshare is a clown?"

"Actually, the name translates to 'mud heads'. They are sort of comic relieves in Hopi rituals and the only ones allowed to touch the Kachinas during ceremonies. Their purpose is to teach the audience important moral lessons through their dramatized antics."

Landry contemplated what Daniel was saying for a second. "How many system lords have you ever known to use names associated with Native American?"

"None. And based on the name she chose, I really don't think she's harmful, sir."

Landry mulled over the information. This entire situation was making less and less sense.

"I know Doctor Michelle Russell by reputation, sir," Carter added. "I know some of the advances she's made in deep space imaging and observation. I have to agree with Daniel. I don't know what she is, but even Ba'al hasn't tried to benefit, let along protect, humanity. She has."

Landry sighed. Now it was time to confess.

"I don't disagree with you, but we need to get General O'Neill back, and wherever she is, it's likely so is he. So you can understand the urgency?"

Carter looked away. Daniel nodded.

"Then find me a way to open that gate and get him back, people. This goa'uld is innocence or lack there of, has no bearing on the orders we've been given, and that's to get the head of Homeworld Security back alive at all costs. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," both of them answered.

Landry stood and continued on to his office. He believed Daniel's assumption, but that didn't erase the fact his friend had to be rescued, regardless of his kidnapper's intentions.

* * *

O'Neill knew what kind of pain Michelle must be in. When he had been tortured in the Iraqi prison, he discovered there were gradients of pain, and with several of the wounds being infected, Michelle was discovering the same thing. She tried to lie still for him, tried to keep from crying. O'Neill had torn off one of his sleeves to use as a rag. He'd used an empty carton to get water from the lake and an empty ration tin to boil water for cleaning her wounds and drinking.

Michelle tried to roll over. O'Neill stopped her, holding her shoulder down.

"It hurts. I can't..."

"Lay still."

She relaxed under his hand.

"It hurts to breath."

O'Neill didn't say anything. The skin around the wounds on her chest was red, indicating the infection was spreading.

"Lay still," O'Neill repeated.

He picked up a pan of cooled water, lifted her head and helped her drink a few sips. He sat the pan aside.

"What are your people called?" O'Neill asked.

She didn't answer.

"Does it matter if we never get back that you tell me?" O'Neill asked. He scrubbed his hand across his chin. In four days he had begun growing a full beard. He hated beards, but he didn't feel like trying to shave with a combat knife.

"Thu'lo," she whispered.

"Thu'lo? What does that mean?"

"The last."

"The last of what?"

"Probably goa'uld at the rate things are going with the system lords and Tok'ra."

O'Neill smiled. "And Jaffa."

"Yes. Mustn't forget the Jaffa, mustn't we?"

"No. They have it rough lately."

"And then the Priors. I heard about them two weeks ago. I guess they're pretty scary."

"No. The Ori are really the scary ones. The Priors are just sort of scary. Or so Daniel keeps telling me."

"Oh."

O'Neill sat down next to her, tearing open a ration package. "Spaghetti is the chef's special today."

She shook her head. "I can't eat."

"You haven't eaten all day."

"I can't hold it down, Jack. Please don't make me."

O'Neill frowned at the rations. "How about just the crackers?"

"I'll try that."

He pulled out the package of crackers and tore them open. He broke off a piece and put it in her mouth. His missed a breath when her lips closed around his finger. He pulled away, brushing the sudden attraction off.

"And what to the thu'lo do?" O'Neill asked.

"Nothing."

"The system lords try to take over the universe, the Tok'ra fight the system lord, so what do the thu'lo do?"

She smiled, looking up at him. "Watch the others try to get themselves killed."

"So the thu'lo don't like the system lords?"

"No."

"Or the Tok'ra?"

"What did say about them? Tolerate. We tolerate them."

O'Neill smiled. "I deserved that."

"I understood that, even if I didn't let on."

O'Neill smiled.

Michelle's hand brushed his. He looked down, taking it. He met her eyes again.

"Tell me, Jack, what does your ideal woman look like?"

"Why?"

"Just tell me."

O'Neill looked toward the opening. The sun shone brightly in the late afternoon.

"Tall. As tall as me."

"Why?"

O'Neill looked at her, laughing quietly. "Because when I dance with her, I don't want to have her towering over me or be too short."

Michelle smiled. "And? What else does she look like?"

"Dark hair and dark eyes. She likes to spend time outdoors. She can cook."

"Is she rich?"

"She doesn't have to be."

"Does she have children?"

"No."

"Does she steal the remote from you?"

"Only if she wants to fight for it."

Michelle whimpered, her face pained.

O'Neill wanted to reassure her, but he couldn't. he didn't know when they were getting off the planet and he had serious doubts that she'd make it until they did.

"Jack?"

"What?"

"When I die, don't try to take me back. I don't want to be cut up."

O'Neill reached down, stroking her face. She looked at him.

"I won't."

"And Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"If I do make it back, I'm going to come find you."

"Why?"

She looked up at him and smiled. O'Neill returned it. He knew why, he hadn't really needed to ask.

"I'm holding you to it," O'Neill told her.

She nodded as her eyes closed. She drifted into restless sleep.

* * *

The gate dialing and the alarms going off startled everyone. Carter and the gate technician were again working in the control room. Daniel was back in his office. Landry had just left his office to joining Carter in the gate room. Teal'c and Mitchell were in the dining room.

The gate technician pushed himself in front of the gate controls. "We're receiving an iris code. It's the Nox, Colonel Carter."

Carter got up and hurried out of the room. She came into the gate room as Lya walked out of the gate. The two women smiled at each other.

"This is unexpected," Carter said.

Lya stopped before her. "Can you ask my world to be dialed? I only came to deliver a message about Jack O'Neill."

Carter's breath caught. Why was Lya bringing a message? She looked up at the gate technician, nodding to him. The gate shut down and then began spinning to dial out.

"What about him?"

"He is safe and will be returned by days end. His going through the gate with the thu'lo has delayed his return, but he is safe and will not be harmed in any way."

The gate burst open and Lya turned to leave.

"Who are the thu'lo?" Carter asked.

Behind her Landry and Daniel ran in through one door. Mitchell and Teal'c came through the opposite one.

Lya turned back to her, smiling her heavenly, innocent smile. "They are the good goa'uld. They protect potential hosts from those that would harm them. They are few and they want only to survive as a race."

"Then... Michelle has a goa'uld in her?" Carter asked. "How does that make them different from the Tok'ra or the system lords?"

Lya walked up to Carter, holding her gaze. "They do not hold hostage a soul because none exists when they enter a host, the soul is gone."

"They use corpses?" Daniel asked.

Lya barely shook her head. "No. I must leave."

Lya turned and left them. The gate shut behind her.

"Shouldn't we go after her?" Mitchell asked.

"No," Carter shook her head. "The Nox... Aren't capable of lying. If she says he'll be returned safely, he will be."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

O'Neill heard growling and sat up. The fire had burned down to small flames, barely lighting the cave. He got up and put some small branches on, keeping his eye on the cave entrance. For two days now he'd heard the creature outside, most likely drawn to the smell of blood and Michelle's body slowly dying.

The creature snarled, followed by a second snarl. Were there two? O'Neill walked around to where he'd laid the combat knife. He picked it up and crouched beside Michelle.

"Jack?" Michelle whispered.

He looked down at her. "Yeah?"

She drew a raspy breath with a slight gurgle in it. Blood was in her lungs now. He hoped she wouldn't die from drowning in it. That was a horrible way to go.

"Jack... Do you live in Colorado?"

He smiled. The growling wiped it away. He stood and added a log to the fire, and then crouched down again.

"Not once I get back. I sold my house."

"Where do you live now?"

"Washington D.C."

"Ick."

"It's not so bad. I moved into a suburb, a quiet neighborhood."

"And the house? What's the house look like?"

"Brick Tudor."

"Trees?"

"Trees line the street. Lots of grass. More than I prefer. The only problem is I can't see the stars as well. That's one advantage of living in Colorado. You can see the stars better up there."

She smiled a little, reaching out to him. O'Neill took her hand, holding it tight. Her body was loosing its ability to keep her fingers and hands warm. Soon it would loose its ability to keep her alive altogether.

"I'm scared, Jack."

He sighed.

"No words of encouragement?"

"No. I can't stop the inevitable, and I'm not going to lie about it."

"I like you."

"Is that so?"

She barely nodded.

"Tell me about that."

"You're funny and honest. You tell it like it is. I like you."

O'Neill looked at her hand. That wasn't quite how he felt about her.

"Jack?"

He almost whispered, "What?"

She whispered something. He looked up. Her eyes were fixed on the fire.

"Michelle?"

Her chest rose and fell and didn't rise again.

"Michelle?" He got onto his knees, pressing fingers against her neck, searching for a sign of life. "No. Not yet."

O'Neill's stomach leapt into his throat when he hard something outside. It didn't sound like an animal. It was distant, like rolling thunder. The animals outside stopped moving, stopped making any noise. O'Neill's attention suddenly refocused on Michelle. He leaned over her, listening for her breath, but there wasn't any. He pressed his lips to her, breathing air into her lungs. He leaned back, drew a breath and breathed air into her again. Another breath and he felt for a pulse again. Finding none he put one hand over the other and pressed the heel of his hand against her chest.

He muttered to himself, "One... Two... Three... Four... Fi--"

O'Neill looked up, hearing staff weapons fire. He looked down at Michelle. Was this a trap? He started to get up, but he couldn't. He trusted her. He believed she had been telling him the truth. He knelt back and continued CPR, trying to ignore the weapons fire outside, the yells in goa'uld and the animals snarling and barking.

Michelle drew in a soft breath. O'Neill laid his hand on her cheek.

"Michelle?"

The brush crashed as someone began charging through them. O'Neill got to his feet, trying desperately to think of something, anything, to protect them. He grabbed a flaming log and rushed toward the entrance. A guard stepped through in full uniform, staff weapon aimed at him. O'Neill swung the log as the staff weapon opened and was fired. The blast hit him full in the chest, knocking him off his feet.

"Jack?" Michelle whimpered.

The guard walked around the fire. Michelle's glassy eyes fixed on him, but only briefly.

"Where's...Jack?" she whispered, exhaling a breath.

The guard picked her up, walking to the entrance where another guard waited. He handed her to the guard and then returned to hoist O'Neill over his shoulder. The two left the cave, the burning fire the only sign anyone had ever been there.

* * *

O'Neill tried to pay attention to the hockey game. It was the second period and his team was winning, but he just couldn't concentrate on it. Concentration had been an issue since he woke up on Nox with Lya beside him. She wouldn't tell him what happened with Michelle. She only smiled and ushered him into the gate, telling him everything was all right. All right? What would she know about all right? She hadn't watched Michelle die? It had taken that split second that Michelle breathed in that O'Neill knew he'd fallen in love and there no reason his mind threw at his heart was changing that fact. He just wished he could have at least gone to her funeral.

O'Neill's attention was pulled back when his doorbell beeped. He hauled himself off the couch and walked through his new house. He could see a form standing outside holding something. O'Neill opened the door to find a delivery person waiting. She was dressed in her parcel company's uniform that strangely did a lot for her shape. Her long auburn hair was pulled back in a ponytail and the late afternoon sunlight caught every red highlight in it. She wore a World Express jacket, but that didn't hide the fact her skin was tan from hours spent in the sunlight. She looked up, peering from under her World Express baseball cap with brown eyes.

O'Neill's breath caught as he stared into those eyes. Michelle's eyes had glowed in the same way, like stained glass with a light behind them pulsating to the heartbeat within.

"O'Neill?" the woman asked.

O'Neill's guard was up. He stepped back.

"Are you Jack O'Neill?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered with suspicion.

She reached behind her and O'Neill's heart stopped until she retrieved an electric pad for his signature. "Can you sign please?"

O'Neill cautiously took the device and signed it. She handed him the package and took her electric pad back.

"Have a good day." She turned on her toe, headed back to her truck.

"Hey," O'Neill said, moving into the door.

She turned.

"Is this your normal route?" he asked.

"It is today. Why?"

"So I can expect to see you here a lot, since I get a lot of deliveries."

She smiled. "Yes, sir. Is there a problem, sir?"

"Yeah. I'd like to know what happened to the thu'lo Michelle Russell. Can you find out and tell me on your next delivery?"

"What's a thu'lo?"

"Your kind. Your eyes gave you away. Her eyes glowed the same way."

The driver's smile faded and he knew that what she was about to tell him was going to be bad news. She walked up to him, holding his eyes. It was a subtle action, but something he'd seen honest people do. People who lied rarely ever held eye contact.

"Michelle didn't make it. She tried but... There were several severe wounds that went through her. You wouldn't have known that though, you're not a doctor. But, thank you for trying to save her."

The news hit O'Neill hard, in the pit of his stomach. He sat down on the step, unsure about how he was supposed to react to this. This wasn't like his wife leaving him or giving up on how he had felt for Carter for so many years. This was completely different and was complicated with the fact that she had died days or weeks ago.

The driver sat down next to him, watching his face, waiting for him.

"Did she hurt?" O'Neill asked.

She slowly shook her head. "Not at all. She went peacefully."

O'Neill looked up, squeezing the package in his hands. That was some consolation, but not a lot.

The driver looked away, sighing heavily.

"I'm sorry. Someone should have told you."

"I wanted to know more about the thu'lo," O'Neill lied. He didn't feel like admitting the truth to a stranger.

She smiled, but it had a cold quality to it. She stood, walking toward the truck.

"Right. That's all it was," she said.

"What does that mean?"

She stopped, looking at the ground. "She talked like you two were friends."

O'Neill sat up. "You spoke to her before she died?"

She turned back to him, nodding. "She was my best friend. She asked me to keep an eye on you. That's why I got this job."

O'Neill smiled, remembering Michelle saying he'd like her best friend, that they were a lot a like. So this was the friend, was it? He believed she was telling him the truth, there wasn't a lot of reasons she would have to lie. He stood and held out his hand. The driver shook hands with him, smiling brightly.

"Jack," he told her.

"Kimberly Hurst."

Kimberly slid her hands into her pants pockets. "Well, I gotta go if I want to keep this job, which I do. Landlord seems to think I should pay rent."

"Landlords are strange that way. Why don't you come over for dinner Friday? I'd like to know more about Michelle and the thu'lo."

"I can't Friday."

O'Neill nodded. He should have expected that. He turned to go back inside.

"But I'm free Sunday afternoon. We could meet somewhere."

He turned back. "There's an Italian restaurant at 54th and Kennedy. Two?"

She nodded. "See you there, Jack. Bye."

O'Neill nodded. She hurried around her truck and jumped in. Kimberly waved as she pulled away, a human gesture of friendship.

O'Neill sat down on the step to watch the neighborhood. It was cold and he should go back in, but too much information had happened today. His neighborhood looked so different, surreal almost. A neighborhood oblivious to the realities of their world...


	6. Author's Note

There is one thing about fan fiction websites that always frustrates me (and my readers). There's so many writers, and so many great stories, that it's easy to get confused about which story goes with what series by which author. Or is that just my natural hair color confusing me again?

I'd rather go with the lesser of the two evils in this case, so, I thought I'd toss together a reader's guide to help sort it out. Here ya go:

1. I, Goa'uld  
2. Soul Meets Body  
3. A Bird In The Hand  
4. The Road to Cardion  
5. Presume Nothing


End file.
